


We are dancing a black waltz, fair Paris is burning after all

by Buttercup_ghost



Category: Paper Mario: The Thousand Year Door
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Angst, Bad Ending, Character Development, Character Study, Codependency, Dubious Morality, F/M, Hurt No Comfort, Implied Relationships, Possession, Post-Canon, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-15 23:00:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11815977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buttercup_ghost/pseuds/Buttercup_ghost
Summary: Everything the darkness touches, it erodes.





	We are dancing a black waltz, fair Paris is burning after all

**Author's Note:**

> Sleep while I slip poison in your ear

Everything the darkness touches, it erodes.

 

 

  
She remembers when it happened, a figure above her, dark, sinister, alluring. Space was in their skin, wrath in their eyes, and it was terrifying.

It was captivating.

 

  
Her mouth moved without her consent, a presence pushing her back, for now, as if saying _not yet, not yet._ It was almost calming, the darkness.

Mario looks at her like a tragedy.

 

It's wrong.

It's all wrong, wrong, _wrong_. She tastes blood in her mouth, after their words are muttered, she can almost feel herself, but she's still just a ghost in her own body. They move her, going to him, cupping his face in her hand, _won't you be my slave?_

And he looks like he's going to cry as he nods.

He could never say no to her, could he?

She feels like laughing, but not the happy kind.

 

  
They curl up next to her, whispering in her ears, _you know, we're not so different, you and I. No one gets kidnaped that many times, now do they?_

She wants to justify it– her kingdom needed the money Mario got on his way to save her, the castles he concurred, they needed it. She is a princess, before anything, even a person.

_Don't you know of the evil that lurks in you? The road to hell was paved with good intentions._

She feels like puking, at that.

_Besides – aren't you tired of being the damsel?_

She is silent.

 

 

Sometimes, they let her slip through them, wisps of her, slipping through the cracks. When she looks at him, with his sad eyes, too sad, they should never be that sad, it is her. They are silent, in these moments.

 

 

The darkness spreads. She wonders what made them into this, what this was, if one day she would be like them.

After all, they were immediately drawn to her.

She was a great vessel.

 

  
She misses the taste of cake. She misses when Mario would smile. She misses herself.

She doesn't recognize her in the mirror.

 

  
They're almost addicting, the galaxy invading her bones. They are so numb, only the terror coming through them, to her. Like a blanket, smothering, taking her breathe away, but providing warmth. She doesn't remember how she functioned without them, in this body. They are like a parasite, a leech, but she doesn't know how it would feel without them. She is used to it, now, them and him and her, spreading darkness, making everything theirs.

She doesn't want to be like them, she realizes, but she already is.

 

 

They start letting her have more control, eventually, in this blurry, hazy world. It is blue eyes that stare down their opposers, not red. She should be scared at the thrill, but she's not.

 

  
She is a dictator. They are a tyrant.

They fit into her perfectly, as if that's where they always were meant to be.

  
Their soul is accustomed to her, now.

  
She finds herself smiling for all the wrong reasons.

 

 

  
Everything the darkness touches, it erodes.

**Author's Note:**

> https://youtu.be/sYxguqarAuU


End file.
